


After the Fact

by sammys_lover



Series: October writing challenge '19 [14]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Cute, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, I just.............................love stan, Oh wait uh, Short One Shot, Short and domestic and boring and im sorry, Sleepy Cuddles, Sukkot, Uh oh it's fluffy, actually, he's good, like really short, pumpkin bread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 03:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21029264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammys_lover/pseuds/sammys_lover
Summary: I can't come up with a summary for this





	After the Fact

The Mystery Shack is quiet as it sits, surrounded by falling leaves and a chill in the air. The whole town loves Halloween (and October in general) and so do I. Ever since moving here, I've felt more at home than I ever have. 

And I've felt even more at home ever since I met Stan. 

Stan and I don’t have a complicated relationship. Though the story of our introduction is a little complicated. (but it’s funny, at least. I mean, now it is.) I was in a local diner, alone. He’d paid for my coffee, dropped a bad pick-up line, I laughed, the clerk behind the counter got pissed because he’d paid with a counterfeit five-dollar bill, (seriously, who has counterfeit five-dollar bills?? They’re FIVE DOLLARS-) we’d ducked out together. 

He’d joked that I was gonna have to go on the run now, and that he’d love to treat me to at least one semi-decent meal before I had to skip town. Thinking back on it, I have no idea why I'd agreed. Maybe it was his charm. 

I hadn’t expected it to go anywhere. I’d expected the meal to consist of him talking about himself before making me pay for the food. But I was pleasantly surprised. He'd been a gentleman. But I will admit, he laid the sweet-talk on a little too thick. But what can I say? I was a sucker for him then, and i still am now. 

That meal was...Jeez, like six years ago. 

I’d only been seeing him for about a year before he told me that he preferred to be called Stanley instead of what I thought was his name: Stanford. I just figured he didn’t like it or something, and I didn’t find out the truth until about a year later when Dipper and Mabel had come to stay with him that fateful summer. 

Knowing him has been...interesting. Living and sleeping with him even more so. We haven’t tied the knot legally (because, legally speaking, he’s dead) but we’re something akin to married anyway. 

Soos and I run the shack together while Stan’s off at sea for half the year, and when he comes back home, we have moments like this. 

He’d walked in, a gruff “Woah,” Leaving him as he walks in on the scene in the kitchen. 

It’s around nine in the morning now, and I'd had trouble sleeping. Normally, I'd be snoring louder than Stan beside me in bed, but i just...i felt like something was off. By just a little. 

So I’d woken early, crept down the stairs, and made my way into the kitchen. There were some old cans of pumpkin lying around, so I figured I should make something out of them. 

I’d decided on pumpkin loaf, whipping it up fairly quickly while the coffee brewed. The pumpkin loaf recipe was one that Stan taught me on one of our first dates together at the shack. I make it every year for Sukkot, which he (and his brother) greatly appreciate. 

Speaking of, isn’t that today? My tired eyes scan the calendar on the fridge, and- oh, yeah. It is. Guess we’ll have to whip up some chicken soup too. Later, though. I’m too tired for all that jazz. 

I’m popping the loaf in the oven when he wraps his arms around my waist, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He groans and plants a soft kiss to my neck. I hum, smiling softly and bringing a hand up, ruffling his hair and leaning my head to gently press atop his. 

“Chag sameach,” I mutter, smiling as he mumbles his response into my shoulder as he presses another kiss to me, raising his head to look at the coffee maker as it beeps. I'd give him my wishes at sundown, but he knows i'll have forgotten by then. My brain will be fried by the day's activities.

“Yer’ too good t’me.” His gruff mumble is lost as he moves to kiss my cheek before straightening to pour himself a cup. 

He hands me my mug first, ever the gentleman, before ushering me to the living room and sitting in his chair, pulling me to sit in his lap. 

The both of us sit there, a commercial for some drama series playing quietly in the background as we sip our coffee. 

Ford, who was lured downstairs by the smell of coffee and pumpkin bread, can be heard in the kitchen, swearing when he burns himself. 

The twins were due to drop by for the huge pre-Halloween celebration in town later, so I know in my head that we should get out of the chair and get dressed, but ugh, Stan’s warm. And comfy. 

He takes my mug from my hands when he notices me dozing off, setting it on the skull that he’s used as an end table for years. The dork. 

I end up asleep on him again, my arm wrapped around his middle.

I'm so happy I found the love of my life. 

I'm so happy he's so damn comfortale. 

**Author's Note:**

> Soft mornings with Stan are just,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,good


End file.
